Wednesday, May 25, 2016


The ghost of Isaac Newton came to me the other day to tell me there is no god
I said well they picked a damn fine choice of apparition to deliver the news
How do you know, anyways? and he didn't say how but then we went to the corner store for Pepsi's and
I showed Sir Isaac his fig cookies and he said they owed him royalty checks for generations

On our trip around the world, because that happened,
Isaac had to hold my hand so I didn't fall because he could fly and I couldn't unless he gave me
Magic powers too. He showed me the pyramids at night which was something I had always
Wanted to see, like Aladdin. Sir Isaac said to me that i was to be my own god when we sat at the top of the pyramids and ate bag lunches baloney sandwiches

But I didn't want to be.
I told him, I said, hey, you know how it is, Sir Isaac. Then I went off totally not sounding douche-y or condescending because hey, the guy did invent calculus, but so that we would both be sure that by the time we had finished our Pepsi's we would know our place in the universe, which Sir Isaac told me isn't really all that vast, anyways.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

It gives me no small joy to look at what I've written in the past; it's like finding an old journal, which I have around the house somewhere. Probably in the basement..

So now I'm 30 years old and I sell insurance. Rather, I will sell insurance; as of this post I'm still in training. Looks pretty lucrative AND it is a good product. Helps people out.

Oh, and I have 2 kids now. Audrey and Isaac. Good kids. Christina stays home with them while I drive all over tarnation. Tarnation is Beaver Falls this week. I miss them all... Good to get back to typing. I remember when I wanted to be a writer at one point in my life. ha ha Suppose I never did reconcile the craft with the amount of personal honesty needed to make it interesting enough for anyone other than myself to read whatever would have been written. Practice makes perfect but lack of use leads to atrophy.

It's late and I should sleep but for some reason the clock is ticking just so and it's the yellowish shade of night that I dream about and feel peaceful and I sit here and type to my future self a snapshot of his past and there really is no reason to stop because when I do I'll see what time it really is and know that morning is coming fast and it's another long day on my leather ass riding all over tarnation to learn how to give people's families peace of mind when it comes to death. You probably know this better than I do, future Seth, but it's really expensive to die.

Likely by the time I get back here, Audrey will read along with me. That thought gives me a proud, satisfied, happy feeling. For all the words in English, there's not one I know that encompasses that feeling. Satisfied, maybe. But more of a future satisfied. Like how parents feel at Christmas. Or when their daughters read their blog posts from 2 years ago. 

Shantih, shantih, shantih and Good night

Sunday, May 13, 2012

The extra form below your chin
Sallow, Tallow
Buttermilk skin.
Aye aye aye
Mister Pirate Man
Calling life to Sea again.
Where? O brother, where
Hast thou in Flight taken the once-too-old
Proverb of Nebby Neighbors from hoary domains
to Garbage Stars born of recycled trash smoke?


Who's to say where we come and go if our
Goings and cummings are never more
Than right out-
side your door.
Fear the unknown and fear is known.
Time grown
And trousers roll'd
Through the garden gate we strolled.
One two three
Check and mate
Alone in a dusty, musty pantry
But happy;
Smiling, content.

-found in a notebook along with addresses and descriptions of rental properties. Probably written mid 2010.